


pretty boy

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, Semi-Public Sex, cis male reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 03:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: you’ve got a fascination with the bowers gang, and one day, Patrick catches you staring at him. trouble ensues.





	pretty boy

There was something about Henry Bowers’ pack of dogs that got to you. Deep, under your skin, straight to your bones.

 

Maybe it was knowing that, in another life, you would have been one of them. You, with your buzzcut and permanent scowl. You, with your military boots and black pullover.

 

You, with your hunger for boys of all shapes and sizes.

 

You were just a little too gay for this world’s version of the Bowers pack.

 

And really, it was too bad. It was too bad because of Henry Bowers’ eyes and Belch Huggins’ arms and Vic Criss’ nose and, most importantly, Patrick Hockstetter’s smile.

 

That wicked, wicked smile.

It was a normal day for you. No one talking to you because you looked like a freak, looked like you could tear someone apart, looked like it wouldn’t be all talk. You sat alone, ate alone, walked to and from school alone, and for the most part, you liked it. For the most part, you weren’t driven out of your mind with loneliness and starvation. That last shred of yourself, though, was like a kicked dog. But you didn’t let it have its say very often.

 

As you sat on the ground next to a tree after school, you let your eyes wander to where the Bowers pack was picking on that group of little losers. Your eyes lost focus, thinking about Patrick’s big hands and little else. When you came back to yourself, you suddenly heard whistles and catcalls. Uncertain, you looked around, spotting a cold grin on Patrick’s face. Henry looked more angry than usual, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He said something you couldn’t quite hear, but it looked like his lips said _queer_.

 

Your cheeks heated. Even after all this time of knowing yourself, that word… that word still got to you like dogs got fleas.

 

You got to your feet, looking away from Patrick’s insistent eyes. You rubbed the back of your neck, wishing you could just disappear. This was not a good way to get anything out of life, to embarrass yourself and hope for the best. You began walking away, heading home.

 

Five minutes later, near the town square, you heard a car engine revving behind you. You turned to look, and sure enough, it was the Bowers gang in that blue Trans Am that made your bones ache with longing.

 

You had spent many happy nights dreaming about being under someone, anyone, in the back seat of that car. Of course, you had your favorite. Almost six feet of trouble, and trouble you wanted desperately to get into, if only it were a perfect world.

 

You heard shouts behind you, and you turned to look again. Patrick and Vic hung out the windows, whistling at you like you were a dog. That part of you that longed for attention flushed with excitement.

 

“Hey, pretty boy!” called Patrick.

 

“Fuck off,” you groaned. You weren’t actually in the mood for anything. As much as you daydreamed, there was a difference between fantasy and what was chasing you down in the middle of town.

 

“I said, hey!” called Patrick again.

 

“And I said, fuck. Off!” you yelled back.

 

The Trans Am came to a stop, tires screeching, gaining honks and shouts from other drivers as they were stopped in their tracks. Patrick vaulted out of the back seat, stalking toward you with that grin on his face. Your heart lurched — that smile meant only one thing. It meant you were about to get fucked up.

 

“I said hey,” he said, walking up to where you stood stock-still and terrified. “The polite thing to do would be to say hey back.”

 

“Uh. H-hey,” you stammered. “What’s up?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said, grabbing you roughly by the upper arm.

 

He dragged you into an alley and shoved you roughly against a wall. The thud was soft, but it took all the breath out of you.

 

“Wh-what do you want?” you asked, wanting to sound more brave, but you were terrified. There were plenty of things people did to boys like you, and you didn’t want to be just another headline.

 

“Saw you staring at me,” said Patrick, thumbs in his pockets. “What the hell was that about?”

 

“Look, it was a mistake. I just zoned out, and my eyes were looking at you. It was nothing personal, man, I swear.”

 

“Mm? That’s a shame.”

 

“Wha- wait, what?”

 

“I said that’s a shame, pretty boy. You better listen a little closer.”

 

As he spoke, he took several steps until he was toe to toe with you, and you were closer to another boy than you had been in months and months and suddenly your mouth was watering.

 

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyes flicking to his mouth for a second.

 

His hand reached up to brush over your bristle-short hair, coming to rest around your throat. God, what he was doing to you was no joke, and you wished it would never end. Just to be touched, even with malice or whatever this was — it was heaven.

 

“I think you know… exactly what I mean,” he said.

 

He leaned in and deeply inhaled at the juncture of your neck and your shoulder, his hand still around your neck.

 

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you were into guys,” you said.

 

“I don’t give a fuck, kid. Ass is ass. And yours, I’ve been dying to get a piece of.”

 

His free hand snaked down to grab at your ass and you let out a small yelp, surprised.

 

“If that makes me a fag, who’s gonna say anything?”

 

“Fag,” you breathed, joking. It felt good to call someone else it for once, instead of getting called it all the time without a single moment to breathe.

 

He laughed, something that scared and excited you in equal measure.

 

“Fag,” he echoed. “That’s us. Spread your legs.”

 

You did so without thinking, and he moved the hand on your ass to the bulge quickly forming in the front of your pants.

 

“Hm, someone’s been thinking of me,” he smirked.

 

“Yeah,” you gasped. Just the barest pressure was so good, you were close to begging for more.

 

As though reading your mind, Patrick spoke up.

 

“What I want to know is, are you gonna be a good boy for me?” he asked.

 

“I — uh,” you stammered, unable to think straight.

 

“I said,” he growled, squeezing your neck and crotch harder, “are you gonna be. A good boy. For me?”

 

“Yes! Yes, god yes,” you gasped.

 

“Good,” he said. “Get on your knees.”

 

You did, his hand only leaving your throat at the last possible moment. You looked up at him — him, who looked so much taller and more terrifying up close, him who looked like everything you had ever wanted. Patrick Hockstetter was going to be the end of you. He was going to tear you apart, and you were going to beg him to do it.

 

“You want me to fuck your face, pretty boy?” he asked.

 

Your eyes flicked towards the mouth of the alley. He tutted down at you.

 

“C’mon, what’s fun without a little risk, huh?” he said. You just blinked at him. “What, you afraid of people knowin’ you’re queer?”

 

“No. They know. You?”

 

“Aw, that’s sweet. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.” He said it sugary and simple.

 

Your dad had said before that people who say that care more than anyone else. You knew it wasn’t true, at least not for Patrick, as you looked in his eyes and saw nothing. No concern, no fear, nothing but the desire to get his dick wet.

 

And you? You were _here_ for that.

 

You started on his belt and he chuckled.

 

“Someone’s eager,” he said.

 

“Can I tell you something?” you said, pulling his cock out of his underwear.

 

“Mm.”

 

“Nothing I like more than a dick in my mouth.”

 

“Well, then. We’re gonna get on real good, aren’t we, pretty boy?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

You took Patrick’s cock into your mouth, smiling until it hit the roof of your mouth. It had been a while since you’d gotten to do this, but it was fine. You never lose the things you love entirely, and you loved giving head.

 

He hissed, rocking forward, making the head hit your soft palate. You tongued at the veins on the underside of it, reaching out to cradle his balls in one of your hands while you palmed at the front of your own pants.

 

“Shit, you’re happy with this, aren’t you?” he hissed. “Slut.”

 

You hummed around his cock, smiling with your eyes up at him. He grabbed the back of your head, fingers scrabbling for something to hold onto, your short hair doing him no favors.

 

Slowly, he fucked his cock into your mouth until it was completely inside, your nose up against his core. You tried to breathe, but it wasn’t working so well. Patrick was significantly better endowed than you had ever expected, and thank god for that. This was going to be so much fun.

 

He picked up the pace, fucking your face like it was his last day on earth, and this was the closest to getting some ass he was going to get. Tears formed in your eyes and slowly began streaming down your face. He pulled out, giving you a short break, huffing out a laugh and wiping away the wetness on one side of your face.

 

“Good. I like my whores willing to put up with the pain. You’re good at this, you know?”

 

“Yeah. Lot of practice.”

 

He laughed, a sickening thing that made your stomach tight, wondering what else he had in store for you.

 

“Lot of practice, that’s good. Hope you got enough time in your busy schedule for more of my dick, there, sweetheart.”

 

Your cheeks flushed. You’d daydreamed before of this happening, and though a lot was different to what you’d imagined, that word, that name was exactly the same, like he’d reached right inside your mind to find it.

 

“Mm. You like that, don’t you?” he asked, dragging the tip of his cock against your tongue, back and forth, teasing you. “You like that. You like being called sweetheart. How long you been waiting to hear that, hm?”

 

He shoved his cock into your mouth, hard and fast, and it was only by the grace of god that your teeth didn’t catch him on the way in, you were so unprepared. You choked, coughed, tried to pull back out of instinct, but he held you right there, his cock deep in your mouth, breaching the softness of your throat.

 

“Fucking fag,” he said. “You been dreaming about my dick, haven’t you? Dreaming about sucking my dick, huh?”

 

He pulled back, slapping you lightly. “Answer,” he commanded.

 

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

 

“That’s not good enough.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Say _yes, sir_.”

 

“Y-yes, sir.” You shivered, despite the warm day. This was getting very real, very fast.

 

He shoved his cock into your mouth, hard, then pulled all the way back out again.

 

“Now say, _thank you for fucking my mouth, sir_.”

 

He did it again, giving you a second to think before you had to respond.

 

When he pulled out, you gasped, “thank you for fucking my mouth, _daddy_.”

 

He absolutely crowed with laughter. “God, you are such a good boy. You know that, don’t you, you little slut? Good boy.”

 

You nodded, your mouth still full of his cock, one hand on the bulge in your pants. He kicked your hand away from your own dick.

 

“We’ll get to that,” he said, sighing. Without any warning, he came in your mouth, choking you as it hit the back of your throat. You’d had no idea he was even close, and you swallowed, surprised.

 

“Didn’t even have to be told to swallow,” he said, grinning, getting on his knees to mirror you. “You’re such a good boy for daddy. Say _thank you for the cum, daddy_.”

 

You blushed again. He reached out and swiped a bit of cum from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb, licking it off.

 

“Thank you for the cum, daddy,” you whimpered, fidgeting.

 

“What? You’re gonna be shy, now?” Patrick asked. “Don’t chicken out on me, now. You wanted this.”

 

“It’s not that, it’s. I want to come,” you stammered.

 

He sighed. “Of course you do. And since you’ve been such a good boy, I’ll help you.”

 

He undid your belt and pants button, reaching inside and pulling out your hard cock.

 

“Look at you,” he said. “All turned on just from sucking my dick.”

 

“Yeah,” you gasped as he twisted his hand over the tip of your cock. “I’m — I’m gonna come, Patrick.”

 

He slapped you suddenly, your cheek burning bright with his handprint. You gasped as you came hard onto his other hand.

 

“Jesus, what — what was that for?” you asked.

 

“I’m gonna come, _Patrick_ ,” he said, imitating your voice.

 

You looked at the ground. “Sorry — I — should I have said daddy?”

 

“That’s better, yeah,” he said, reaching out to hold his hand in front of your face. The hand he had just used to jerk you off. “You made a mess.”

 

You looked at his hand and then up at his eyes. He was serious. You licked your cum off of his hand, looking him in the eye as you did. He watched you with a strangely strong fascination, the kind you had only seen before when he killed a fly in one of your shared classes.

 

When you finished, he patted your head. “Good boy. You’ve been good for daddy.”

 

“Uh — thanks.”

 

Without another word, he got up and walked away, leaving you still on your knees in an alley in the heart of Derry. Seemingly as a second thought, he turned around just before exiting the alley.

 

“You better grow out that buzzcut, pretty boy. I need something to hold onto when I fuck that pretty little mouth.”

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com


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